


When you come back to me.

by tinyniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, incredibly long sentences with lots of commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyniel/pseuds/tinyniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The leviathan, this time in the form of a ridiculously attractive woman with long, brown curls, smouldering dark eyes and a smile that could knock anyone off their feet, even Dean Winchester, pins him to the wall, using only the hand that's currently clutching his throat, stopping his breath. Dean desperately tries to fight her off, but what little strength he has left is fading quickly as his body jerks, straining for air.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>My take on Cas coming back in season 7, back before we knew the when and how. Inevitably, it ends up Destiel-y.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you come back to me.

The leviathan, this time in the form of a ridiculously attractive woman with long, brown curls, smouldering dark eyes and a smile that could knock anyone off their feet, even Dean Winchester, pins him to the wall, using only the hand that's currently clutching his throat, stopping his breath. Dean desperately tries to fight her off, but what little strength he has left is fading quickly as his body jerks, straining for air.

She laughs, a cold, satisfied laugh.  
"I don't know why you keep running," she says, and Dean would tell her exactly why if he had any air to form words with. Instead, he tries to communicate all his loathing with his eyes, but all it does is earn him another mocking laugh. The leviathan leans in close, too close for his taste, and licks his cheek.  
"I'm going to take my time with you," she promises, words whispered softly against his skin, and it would be a hell of a turn on if this chick wasn't some evil bitch out if worse than hell.

It's been two weeks since Bobby died. Two weeks since they burned his body, and took off to wherever they could get that was away from all of it, stopping in the first small town they found to ditch their current car and check into the seediest motel they'd lived in yet. Dean had spent the entire night on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling, brain empty. He knew from Sammy's breathing that his brother was doing the same, but neither of them spoke a word into the darkness. What was there to say?

The next day it was back to business, as Sam came back from his breakfast run claiming he'd spotted one of the leviathans from the warehouse. They had snuck out of the motel, stolen a car in a remote parking lot and left town as fast as the shitty little Mazda would let them.

Since then, they'd been running. Until now, when the leviathans had caught up with them again. Managed to separate them, somehow. Which is how Dean ended up like this, pinned to the wall and helpless.

Dean's vision is starting to swim, his lungs being cut off from air for too long. He blinks, trying to stay awake, hoping to anything almighty that Sam is just around the corner, but it's getting increasingly harder to keep his eyes open.  
"Don't fight it," the leviathan coos in his ear, breath sending chills down his spine, and not in a good way. "You were never going to win this one."

Dean blinks furiously, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He feels his body going limp, whatever little fight he was able to put up gone now. Just as his body gives in, just as he passes out, he feels himself sink to the floor, and he hears a voice, a strangely familiar voice, maybe Sam, he can't really tell at this point.

And then everything goes black.

*

When he comes to, he's slumped against the wall. He doesn't know how long he's been out, only that for some reason he's still alive, and the leviathan seems to be gone. Dean tries to jump to his feet, suddenly suspicious, but his body won't let him and he slumps back against the wall. His neck hurts, his lungs still ache with every breath, but he's alive.

How is he alive?

He blinks, trying to take in the room around him, but his vision is still mostly a blur and he can only make out faint shapes. Lights on the walls, the black shape of the doorway. And, against one wall, a tall, dark figure.

Dean flinches, suddenly alert. He tries to stand up again, but his legs fail him.  
"Who's there!?" he demands. "Sammy, that you?"

The figure tears away from the wall, and Dean starts clutching for his gun, hoping it's still where he left it before he was attacked. He pulls it out, aims it at the still blurry, slowly approaching figure.  
"I'll shoot," he warns. "Don't even think I'll hesitate."  
"I know you won't."

Dean freezes, his entire body going cold. That voice.

The figure comes to a halt, stoops next to Dean. Dean blinks furiously, trying to focus on the face in front of him. A hand reaches out, touches Dean's cheek, and suddenly everything's clear. The pain in his chest is gone, his neck feels fine again and he can see the figure before him perfectly.

But that doesn't make the reality of it any easier to take in.

"Cas?"

Dean's voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, and it's nothing to do with his recent state of unconscious. A pair of all too familiar blue eyes find his.

"Hello Dean."

Dean's mouth falls open and he just stares, taking in every inch of the face he never thought he'd see again. Blue eyes, chapped lips, confused head-tilt. It's all still there, even the messy tangle of dark hair.

"Cas?"

Dean tries to scramble to his feet, and this time they let him, Castiel lending a hand, pulling him up easily. Dean can't stop staring at his old friend, the last person he ever thought he'd see again, someone he had finally, maybe, come to terms with having lost.

And here he is.

Dean can't help himself. He reaches out, places a hand on Cas' chest, needing to know what's in front of him is real. He tugs at the tie, running the fabric through his fingers, grasps Cas' arm, stares at his face.

"How?" he manages. "How did you-"  
"Not without difficulty," Castiel says in his matter-of-factly tone, clearly thinking that's answer enough. "It's good to see you, Dean."

There's just enough hesitation in his voice to snap Dean out of his shock. He locks eyes with Castiel, and there's more than a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

And Dean knows why. He remembers, with painful accuracy, the last few weeks before Cas died. From the moment he realised his friend had betrayed him, those awful seconds after Castiel confirmed Dean's worst nightmare, to Lisa and Ben's disappearance, to Rafael and Purgatory, the souls and Cas' lifeless body on the floor.

And that overwhelming feeling of relief when Castiel drew breath again. The remorse in the angel's eyes when he promised Dean that he'd redeem himself. The sight of him disappearing into the lake, black shadows exploding into the water, and Dean being left with nothing but a soaking wet trench coat and a gaping, aching hole in his chest.

And it all comes back now. That deep, excruciating heartache he's been hiding from Sam, from Bobby, hell even from himself. All this time spent trying to ignore it, because feeling it, actually letting it out, has been too painful, too hard to even think about.

And now Cas is here again, right in front of him, looking like nothing ever happened.

"Dammit, man!"

Dean lunges forward, throwing his arms around Cas, pulling him close. He doesn't hug, he crushes Castiel to him, clings on for dear life, clutching at the angel's dark jacket. Cas, for once grasping the concept of acting human, hugs him back, nowhere near as desperately as Dean, but Dean doesn't give a rats ass about that right now. The only thing he cares about is that Cas is here, and he can touch him again and he's real, he's got to be, because he feels real. And if this is an illusion, a dream, then Dean never wants to wake up again.

"Where the hell have you been, Cas?" he demands into the angel's shoulder, refusing to let go of the familiar fabric, or to back away.  
"That's a ... really long story," the angel says. "But I'm back now."

Dean pulls away, studies Cas' face.  
"Are you really? I mean, this is happening? I didn't die, I'm not hallucinating?"  
"This is real, Dean," Castiel assures him. "I'm here."  
"And you're ... you?" Dean asks, suddenly realising that even though it might look like Cas, there's every chance it's not. Not entirely.  
"As far as I can tell," Castiel says.

Dean can't take his eyes off the angel, studying every feature, making sure nothing looks out of place or different. And it doesn't, so he breathes a sigh of relief.  
Cas tilts his head. "Is something wrong, Dean?"  
"I just ... I never thought I'd see you again, man."  
"You very nearly didn't," Cas admits, biting his lip. "I ... contemplated coming back for a long time. I didn't think you'd want to see me. We didn't exactly part on ... amiable terms."  
Dean just stares at him. "You think I care about that anymore?"

The look of confusion on Cas' face almost breaks Dean's heart.  
"Cas, you screwed up. It happens. Trust me, I know this for a fact."  
"But I let you down-" Cas starts, but Dean just dismisses him with the wave of a hand.  
"Cas, I've done nothing but let you down. Didn't stop you standing by me, no matter what. I think you're allowed a lapse in judgement"  
He flashes Castiel a quick smile. "Although I've gotta admit; you don't do anything by halves, do you?"  
The corner of Cas' mouth curls up a little. "I suppose not."

"Where's the leviathan?" Dean asks, suddenly remembering.  
"Gone," Cas says simply.  
"Gone? Not dead?"  
Cas just shrugs.  
"You don't know how to kill them either?" Dean's mood falls a little.  
"No," Castiel admits. "But I know someone who might."

Dean doesn't ask who. It doesn't matter right now.

"Goddammit Cas, I missed you!"

The words tumble out before he can stop them, and he blushes, actually blushes, coughs, busies himself with picking at a stain on his sleeve.  
"I missed you too, Dean," Cas says quietly. "I would have come sooner, I should have, I just ..."  
He trails off, and Dean looks up. Cas is looking at the floor, face sad all of a sudden.  
"Dean, I'm sorry. I'm too late," he breathes.  
"Too late for what?" Dean asks. And then it dawns on him. "Bobby."  
"If I knew Dean, I would have been here."  
"Don't worry about it," Dean assures him, but Cas doesn't budge.  
"I promised to redeem myself to you. I owed you this."

Dean puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder, and Cas looks up.  
"It's done, Cas. Don't worry about it."  
"But Dean-"  
"You're back now. That's a hell of a good start."

Cas tilts his head, brow furrowing, and the look is so familiar that Dean can't help but laugh, causing Cas to look even more confused, more like his old self, and it feels so good to have _something_ back to normal, for once.

What Dean does next, however, is nowhere near 'normal'.

He leans in with every intention of giving Cas another crushing, manly hug. Instead, he finds himself cupping the back of Cas' neck, weaving his fingers into the messy dark hair, his other hand snaking around Cas' waist, pulling the angel closer.

And then Dean kisses him.

It's a good half a minute into the kiss before he actually realises what he's doing. But by then he doesn't want to stop. And, even better, Castiel doesn't seem to want him to either. Dean feels a warm, strong hand slip into his hair, feels Cas pull him closer, the angel's lips eager against his own. Dean let's himself be pushed back against the wall, and this time it's not even remotely unpleasant.

They kiss, just kiss, hungry, deep kisses, for what feels like forever, before Dean has to break away for air. He pants, afraid to look at Castiel, feeling shy all of a sudden.  
"Dean," Cas breathes, his long fingers still clutching absentmindedly at Dean's hair, and Dean looks up. There's no mistaking the look in Cas' eyes, and Dean just leans in, sealing their lips together again.

Cas leans into him, pushing him up against the wall, hands fumbling to get under Dean's jacket, under his shirt. Dean tugs Cas' shirt out of his pants, running his hands up under the fabric, Cas' skin burning against his palm.

"Missed you so fucking much, Cas," Dean mutters into the kiss, between Cas' tongue exploring his mouth, Cas' teeth nibbling at his lip. Cas just moans something incoherent in return, and Dean's heart jumps in his chest.  
"I didn't know-," Cas starts, interrupted by Dean lips. "I didn't know you felt this way."  
"Neither did I," Dean admits, breaking away to kiss Castiel's chin, brush his mouth along Cas' jaw, stubble prickling his lips.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice echoes through the warehouse, breaking the moment, and Dean curses. Castiel steps away, reluctantly letting go of Dean's arm.  
"This isn't over," Dean promises, before he clears his throat and calls out. "In here, Sammy!"

Sam appears two seconds later.  
"Dean, are you OK?"  
"I'm fine," Dean assures him, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Then he notices the other figure in the room, and freezes in the doorway.

"Castiel?"  
"Hello, Sam."

Sam stares at Cas, then at Dean, then at Cas again.  
"It's him," Dean assures him. "Trust me, I've checked. Thoroughly."

And Sam does what Dean did, closes the space between himself and Cas and pulls the angel into a tight hug.  
"It's good to see you, Cas!"  
"You too, Sam," Cas says, awkwardly patting his back.  
"What happened to you?" Sam demands, still looking at Cas in awe.  
"It's a long story," Cas repeats.

*

Dean sits back on the hood of their borrowed car, an old Dodge Avenger, rusty and faded. Sam and Cas are inside, still going over the details of Castiel's story. Sam wants to know everything, twice, and Cas is obliging.

To Dean it doesn't matter. Castiel is back, that's all he really cares about.

He tips his head back, looking up at the star-strewn sky. The moon is almost full, and illuminating the lake on the other side of the road. There was a time when Dean could sit like this, on nights after a job well done, and not have to worry about anything until they sniffed out the next freak-case in a newspaper.

At least he thinks there was a time. He hasn't relaxed in ages.

There's a gust of wind, and he turns, not surprised to find Cas next to him on the hood.  
"Sam let you off the hook, eh?"  
"I told him I was tired," Cas says, staring absentmindedly across the parking lot. "He had a lot of questions."  
"Yeah, that's Sammy," Dean agrees. "He's gotta have all the answers."  
"And you?" Cas asks, catching his eye.  
Dean gives him one of his crooked smiles. "I'm just glad you're back, man."

"What happened to your car?" Cas asks, giving the Dodge a disapproving look.  
"She's tucked away safe somewhere," Dean says. "She was a little too ... conspicuous."  
"I liked her," Cas just says, and Dean can't help but smile a little.  
"Yeah, don't worry. She's coming back too."

They sit in silence for a while, Castiel staring up at the sky with that blank look on his face that makes it absolutely impossible to know what he's thinking. Dean steals glances, wondering how, if at all, he's going to bring up what happened in the warehouse.

"You kissed me," Cas says out of nowhere, and so matter-of-factly that Dean jumps into defensive mode out of habit.  
"Well, you kissed me back."  
"Naturally." Castiel turns to meet Dean's eye, and the look is so intense that Dean has to look away.  
"Why did you kiss me?" the angel asks.  
"I don't know," Dean says, earnest. "I didn't mean to. And then the next minute I was. And then I didn't want to stop."

He kicks a pebble across the parking lot, and it hits a trash-can with a loud, clanking noise.

"And now?" Cas asks, and Dean looks up.  
"Now what?"  
"Now that you've had time to think about it."

Cas leaves the half-question hanging between them. Dean looks at him, catches those thrilling blue eyes, the familiarity of them aching in his chest. Cas looks nervous. Not like he did in Maine, not terrified or uncomfortable like he wishes he was a million miles away. It's more like a look of nervous anticipation, and Dean knows that whatever he says now is going to change their friendship, their relationship, their so-calle bond, forever.

He thinks about all their time spent together, all the shit they've been through. All the times Cas has made him smile, despite everything, by responding to a situation in one of his bizarre, I'm-so-not-human-ways.

He thinks about their first meeting. Of how terrified he was the first time Cas approached him, unflinching at the sparks and the gunshots and the knife Dean had plunged into his heart. If anyone had told him then that this would turn out to be the first, hell, the only real friend he ever had, Dean would never have believed them.

And he thinks about Cas rebelling for him, walking away from the only life he knew to help Dean. About Cas' search for God, and how utterly broken that left him.

And the anger, the pure rage in Castiel's eyes when he found Dean ready to give himself up to Michael. Dean doesn't, to this day, understand how he got out of that alive.

He remembers the excruciating stab of pain when he realised Cas was working with Crowley. That his friend had been lying to him all this time. He remembers the look on Cas' face as Dean fled the house, that stubborn look of determination.

_Dean, it's not broken._

But most of all, he thinks the last time he looked into Castiel's eyes, before the leviathans took over. That look of pain, and sadness, silently screaming for forgiveness. And how many times over the last few months he's been desperate, _praying_ to see those eyes again, ready to forgive Cas anything and everything as long as he just came back.

And here he is. Looking at Dean, head tilted, patience endless as always, as if he knows just how hard it is for Dean to say what he wants to say, and he's giving him all the time he needs.

"Cas," Dean breathes, and the angel's face changes, something akin to relief spreading across the angel's normally deadpan face.

Dean leans in, this time with full intent, and presses his lips to Castiel's.

Cas relaxes against him, and Dean swears he can feel the relief flooding through the angel's body. Dean kisses him, hand cupping Cas' face, thumb tracing his jaw.  
"Dean," Cas murmurs against his lips, sending chills down Dean's spine.  
"Yeah, Cas?"  
"I'm glad I came back," Cas breathes, and Dean smiles against his lips.  
"So am I, Cas," he whispers, leaning in for another deep kiss. "So am I."

**Author's Note:**

> Also @ http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/3608141.html


End file.
